It always happens whenever I talk to someone from home, in person, on facebook, myspace, whatever. The same (two) questions always come up without fail. The first usually comes in the form of someone grabbing my left hand and excited asking how long First Love and I have been married if they haven’t heard about his rampant dickcapades all over Atl. (Dammit for having one of “those relationships” that everybody is all emotionally invested in.) The second, and far more disturbing generally goes something like;
“So how many kids do you have now?”
WHAAAAAAAAAAT?!?! Fuck you mean HOW MANY? Are you HIGH?!?! As though my ALREADY having children at 23 is just implied?
When did getting knocking up by random dick get to be the norm? Boo bitch NO! I make sure I take my birth control before I EAT everyday, k?
And then when I say I don’t have any they have the nerve to look at me all incredulous and shit like this is barely possible, all “Reeeeaaaally?”
Yes really! I know plenty of single moms. I know plenty my age. I know many of them that are doing wonderfully on their own. ALL of them have trifling ass baby daddies.
Not a good look for me.
And before you start hitting me up all upset and shit, I’m not knocking single mothers or young mothers or even baby daddies. Yes, I recognize people make mistakes, and some don’t believe in “alternative medicine”. (Seriously? Just call it an abortion Very Popular Magazine I Read This Phrase in That Pissed me Off.) But none of that is what I’m talking about. I run into the people that have 3 and 4 kids by 6 or 7 different dudes and find it shocking, SHOCKING! that my priorities are somewhere other than buying formula and making sure my infant WHO CAN’T EVEN WALK is outfited in the newest baby Jordans.
That just wasn’t my choice.
I’ll never understand for the life of me why people look at me like I’m nuts when I say I’m happily 23 with no kids or husband. (AND WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH EVERYONE GETTING MARRIED?!?!) I tell them I graduated from Howard, they look at me like it never occurred to them that black people attended this (historically black) university, let alone young black girls from the inner city. Or, you know, they go, but get knocked up and drop out. Whatever.
I’m over it. And I know I’m not the only one.
So you know what the fuck I need? I need a holiday. I need an all day celebration of the fact that I’m 23 with a college degree, no kids, no husband I settled for, and no burning need to find one right at THIS VERY SECOND. I need a day on the calendar to revel in the fact that, yes, I can in fact go drop $300 on a pair of shoes because I don’t have to pay for daycare.
Can a sista get a holiday for being fabulous and different?
That’s all I’m sayin’.
Let’s get on it. What’s a good day for us ladies?